


Out Of The Closet

by KissingWinchesters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: smpc, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 07:01:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17483399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KissingWinchesters/pseuds/KissingWinchesters
Summary: When a witch traps them in a closet, Sam and Dean must go to extreme measures to escape.





	Out Of The Closet

**Author's Note:**

> I love merakieros's art so much! So lucky to have her talent on my fics.

“This is all your fault.”

 

Sam scrunches his face up.

 

“Um, how exactly?”

 

Dean tries to touch the handle of the closet door again and gets zapped by a green glowing light. It zaps him every time he tries. Which is a lot.

 

“Because all the old crones fall for you, and you never even pity flirt with them. You pissed this one off real good.”

 

Dean reaches for the handle again and Sam bats his hand away before the inevitable zapping.

 

“Really? Stop it.” Sam crosses his arms and inhales, his chest rising and falling. Dean thinks Sam looks like a cliche tv lumberjack when he breathes like that.

 

“You didn’t have to do anything, just keep her sweet, but oh no, you just had to go all prude and make her trap us. Damn it, why is it so hot in here?”

 

Over-dramatically pissy, Dean yanks his jacket off, and then his shirt, leaving him in just his tshirt. There’s a dark line of sweat down the centre of his back, and Sam wishes (not for the first time since they got stuck in there) that the closet wasn’t so damn small.

 

“She’s a witch, Dean. Me not flirting with her had nothing to do with us being in here. Us trying to kill her does.”

 

“Whatever. What the hell are we going to do?” Dean looks up, but there isn’t a convenient hatch above their heads, and there isn’t another door behind the coats. Dean checked already.

 

“It’s not a normal ward,” Sam says, getting his back right against the wall. “I’ve never seen the booby trapped door handle thing before.”

 

“Fucking witches,” Dean gripes, swiping his hand across his forehead. “Think she’s tryin’ to cook us like Hansel and Gretel?”

 

Sam snorts, smiling because whatever crap they get into, Dean can always make him laugh.

 

“It’s a shame the walls aren’t made of cookies.”

 

“Aw, man, now I’m hungry.” Dean pouts and pulls at the neck of his t-shirt, now also damp.

 

Sam swallows, trying not to think about how Dean smells, the same old cologne he’s worn for years, and the sweat Sam would recognise blindfolded. He might be gross, but he’s always had a thing about how Dean smelled after a hunt or after driving for hours in a baking hot car.

 

“Move your ass, Sammy. There’s gotta be a sigil or something in here.”

 

Dean worms his arms past Sam’s side and tries to rummage behind the coats of the guests staying at the hotel.

 

“Dean, let me... I can look here... you, you look over there.”

 

Anything to stop Dean from touching him. Their legs are getting more and more wedged together the more frustrated and vigorous Dean keeps searching for something to help break the spell.

 

“Wait, what’s that?” Dean bunches his fist in the neck of Sam’s shirt and stands on his tiptoes, the stubble on his chin grazing Sam’s cheek as he tries to look at... well, whatever it is he thinks he’s seen.

 

Sam feels his stomach swoop, damn it, and all the blood and rational thought drains right out of his head because he’s not thinking clearly, and Dean’s knee is between his legs and it’s not fucking fair.

 

“Damn it, it’s a light switch.”

 

Dean huffs, looking away from the wall and into Sam’s eyes. Their noses are almost touching, and Sam can’t remember how to speak.

 

“It’s hot as balls in here,” Dean says, not moving out of Sam’s space, not even a bit.

 

Sam swallows, nods, then leans in and kisses his brother. It’s not really much of a kiss, only the lightest brush of lips, and Sam only hits the corner of Dean’s mouth. But there’s no mistake in his intention, no way he can bullshit his way out of it, and no chance he can un-see the wide eyed look of shock on Dean’s face right now.

 

So Sam bolts.

 

“Sam, wait...”

 

“Oww, fuck!”

 

“...the door!”

 

Sam holds his hand to his chest. Jesus, that zapping hurts like a bitch. Why did Dean do it so many times?!

 

“You just kissed me.”

 

“I...” Sam tries to get into the corner of the closet, but he’s blocked by some boxes and the fact that he’s a grown ass man. “Uh...”

 

“Sam?”

 

Dean doesn’t look mad, or like he’s going to kill him, in fact... Sam would say that Dean looks kinda worried. And he keeps frowning and looking down, then back up at Sam’s lips, and finally to his eyes.

 

“Did the witch make you do that?”

 

The way Dean says it doesn’t sound like he’s giving Sam an out. It sounds like he actually thinks that’s the reason.

 

Sam feels the lie in his throat, how wrong it tastes, and however much he wants to protect Dean from this, Sam can’t not tell him the truth. He just can’t.

 

“No, it wasn’t because of the witch.”

 

“Then why?”

 

Dean steps forward, and it’s all it takes for him to be in Sam’s space again. They are in a closet after all.

 

Sam’s heart thuds, beating erratically in his chest. He feels like he did when he was fourteen and he realised what it was that he was feeling for Dean. Every time Dean looked at him then Sam would have to look away so that his eyes wouldn’t betray him.

 

He can’t seem to look away now'

 

 

“Sam? Was it a mistake?”

 

Dean is so serious, his face shuttered so that Sam can’t tell what he’s thinking. But... it’s almost like he’s waiting...

 

“Say something, damnit.”

 

“No.” Dean frowns and Sam shakes his head. “No, it wasn’t a mistake.”

 

“Huh,” Dean replies, finally giving Sam some relief from the intensity of his eyes. Dean sorta glazes over, presumably processing what Sam just said and maybe thinking of the best way to handle how to let Sam down gently. Or he’s realising what a sick fuck he has for a brother and he’s deciding whether to beat his ass or just kick him out, or both.

 

“Huh? Is that... what does huh mean?”

 

“I always thought it’d be me who messed up,” Dean says, shrugging his shoulders. “Never thought you’d be the one to crack.”

 

“Wait, what?” Sam says, confused by... Dean’s admission? He can’t mean what Sam thinks he means. Can he?

 

But Dean is smiling and moving closer, his knee bumping against Sam’s, but not crossing any lines.

 

“It’s always been you,” Dean says, his voice quiet, but no less assertive. He wants Sam to hear him, not just in the audible sense, but really hearing what he’s saying.

 

Dean leans in, and this time its Sam on the receiving end of an off centre brush of lips. Dean lingers, pressing his slightly open mouth against Sam’s bottom lip, before righting himself and really kissing Sam. A proper kiss that can leave him in no doubt of Dean’s intentions.

 

Sam can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed about the sound he makes when Dean puts his tongue in his mouth. He grabs onto Dean’s sleeves and hauls him forward, both of them sinking deeper into the row of coats.

 

“Damn it, coat hanger,” Sam says, dodging Dean’s mouth long enough to reach behind his back to wiggle the one jabbing into him.

 

“Here, turn around,” Dean says, helping Sam out by dragging him against another wall and shoving Sam’s legs apart with his knee.

 

“God... Dean...”

 

Sam puts his hands around the back of Dean’s neck, holding onto him like any second he might change his mind and leave him.

 

Dean answers Sam’s doubts by kissing him harder, and ripping the front of his shirt open without even trying to undo the buttons.

 

Sam laughs, pressing their foreheads together.

 

“Eager...” he says, breathless from lack of oxygen.

 

“Damn right,” Dean replies, his fingers pulling up the hem of Sam’s t-shirt and finding skin.

 

He touches Sam like he’s starving for him, always so intense, like Dean is. Nothing is ever half done, Dean doesn’t believe in not giving 110% at all times, and Sam is learning quickly that it includes sex.

 

“Fuck...”

 

“You ok?” Dean pulls back, the palm of his hand high up on Sam’s ribs.

 

“Yeah,” Sam replies.

 

Dean smiles at him, and Sam can see all the weight of their life that Dean carries lift from him. His eyes are so bright, so happy, and Sam wants say and do everything that he’s never been able to. He wants to eat Dean alive.

 

Sam settles for rubbing his hard on against Dean’s thigh and kissing him so hard that Dean has to dig his fingertips into Sam’s shoulders to keep from falling over.

 

It’s so good, so not how Sam always pictured their first time, but whatever... it’s perfect because it’s them, and it’s happening. Dean’s cock is right there, hard and dragging slowly against his with every grind of Dean’s hips.

 

“Oh god... Dean...”

 

“Too much?” Dean sounds breathless, and he tries to pull away, which Sam does not like, not one bit.

 

“Not too much,” Sam says, reaching down to grab Dean’s ass. “So not too much.”

 

“Well, ok,” Dean chuckles. Instead of going for Sam’s mouth again, Dean directs his attention to his brothers neck, scraping his teeth against his throat, licking and sucking at the reddened skin.

 

Sam tips his head back against the wall, really enjoying the firm pressure of Dean’s knee between his legs and the heat of Dean’s tongue working it’s way along his jawline.

 

He’s actually going to get off like this, without having Dean even touch his dick. Sam wants to laugh at that, if he wasn’t too busy trying not to make his lip bleed from how hard he’s biting down on it.

 

“Ummf, Sam... do you...”

 

Dean seems to think for a second before deciding against whatever it was he was going to say and just continues to ravage Sam’s neck instead.

 

It feels amazing, so amazing in fact that Sam feels his balls throb dangerously, and he has to shove Dean away just a little so that he doesn’t come in his pants. He also wants to know what Dean was going to ask him.

 

“What is it?” Sam inhales sharply when Dean puts his hands under his shirt, sliding them up over his naval and ribs.

 

Licking his lips, Dean swallows, his thumbs rubbing against Sam’s collarbones.

 

“We have to get out of here, Sam. That witch could be half way to Montana or fuck knows where.”

 

His hands roam more, touching all the skin exposed to him.

 

Sam can’t stop the cold stab of disappointment he feels, because he doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t want Dean to have anything else on his mind right now.

 

Looking down at the very obvious bulge in Dean’s jeans, Sam would bet a million dollars that his brother would rather keep fooling around too.

 

“You, uh...” Dean slides his hand over Sam’s crotch and rubs his erection, squeezing and biting his lip before looking at Sam with dark, hungry eyes. “Want me to keep going?”

 

Sam nods, his hair falling into his eyes. He blows it away, moaning when Dean latches onto his throat again.

 

“Keep... yeah, keep doing that, Dean... so good.”

 

Sam pushes his hips forward into Dean’s hand, gripping the shoulder of Dean’s t-shirt.

 

“Can’t fucking wait to get you home,” Dean says, his body crowding Sam even harder against the wall, his knee and hand working together to get Sam to come.

 

“Oh fuck, there... like that...”

 

Spots dance behind Sam’s eyelids as they slip closed, those words and the insistent throb in his balls making all other thoughts dull and become meaningless.

 

“I’m close, fuck, Dean... “

 

Sam forces his eyes open, wanting to see Dean’s reaction to making Sam come without even getting into his pants.

 

As suspected, Dean looks totally mesmerised by the strip of skin just peeking out above Sam’s belt, the visible wet patch where the head of his cock is leaking through the denim, and the way Sam is shallowly riding Dean’s thigh for more friction.

 

Sam reaches down and wraps his fingers around Dean’s wrist, pushing his hand down harder on his crotch.

 

“Jesus, Sam... you gonna come, aren’t ya?”

 

Dean bites his lip in concentration, determined now to make Sam cream his jeans like a teenager.

 

Sam does his best not to cut off the circulation to Dean’s hand, but he’s gripping so tightly his knuckles are white.

 

Dean kisses Sam, not caring that Sam’s mouth is lax and that he doesn’t kiss back, too busy gasping every time Dean rubs his thumb over the head of his cock.

 

“Didn’t think it’d be so hot. Touching you, but not touching. It’s like... you’re forbidden or something...”

 

“Yeah... god, Dean. We are brothers... can’t get more forbidden than this.” Sam’s body jerks, his weight bearing down onto Deans leg. “We’re going to try though, right?”

 

“Damn right we are. This isn't all I want to do to you,” Dean replies, grabbing a handful of Sam’s hair and bumping their foreheads together. Sam’s eyes are so beautiful, so wild and Dean could get lost in them. He can’t stop looking, wants to remember the exact way Sam’s eyes look when he comes, even if it is just that he closes them tight.

 

“Dean... fuck...” Sam releases his hold on Dean’s wrist and comes with a startled ‘oh’. He arches forward, his hips shuddering against Dean’s thigh and the wet spot on his jeans gets wetter as he comes in his pants.

 

“Yeah, that’s it,” Dean grins, watching intensely as Sam’s pupils dilate with pleasure, squeezing shut and then opening wide at a new wave of his orgasm.

 

“Aghh... that was...” Sam pants and swallows, no more words forming in his mouth.

 

“The best you’ve ever had? Mind blowing? The most.. mfff...”

 

Obviously the best way to shut Dean up from gloating is to stick your tongue in his mouth. Sam wishes he’d had the balls to do it years ago, he could have saved himself so much earache.

 

Sam keeps rocking his hips against Dean’s leg, well aware of Dean’s hard on pressing against him.

 

“Hmm,” Sam pulls away from Dean’s hungry lips, moving his hand down Dean’s stomach, stopping just above Dean’s belt buckle. “Your turn.”

 

Dean sighs and stops Sam’s fingers from going any further.

 

“We gotta get out of here,” Dean says, looking pained. “The witch... I can... we can finish this when we get back to the motel. Right?”

 

Sam moves his hand again, cupping the bulge of Dean’s erection.

 

“Don’t think it’d take me long to get you off.”

 

“We have a job to do,” Dean says, not sounding like he’s convincing himself all that much.

 

Sam groans and gets off Dean’s leg, stepping uncomfortably around to the closet door. Gritting his teeth, Sam tries to open the door, but of course he’s zapped by the witches damn spell.

 

“Look, we’ll figure out how to get out. But... not right this second.”

 

Sam crowds Dean back against the wall of the closet, then decides against that position, manhandling Dean around so that he’s against the door.

 

“Just don’t touch the door handle,” Sam says, leaning in to suck on Dean’s neck, his hand massaging Dean’s cock through his jeans.

 

“Oh...” Dean scrabbles to get a hold of Sam’s shirt, pulling it up his back to get more material.

 

Sam laughs and gets real close, pressing his chest against his brothers, nuzzling his face against Dean’s jaw.

 

“You’re right about this being hot,” Sam says. “Can’t wait to see you naked though.”

 

“Jesus, Sam.” Dean is rubbing himself off against Sam’s hand more than Sam’s actually rubbing him.

 

“Want you to fuck me so bad.”

 

Dean groans, his head slamming back against the door.

 

“Sam... damn it, filthy fucking mouth... keep going, almost there...”

 

Dean drags Sam into another kiss, their mouths a little uncoordinated, but neither care.

 

Well, Sam might care a bit. Not about being uncoordinated, but Dean isn’t the one calling the shots right now and he wants Dean to know that.

 

Putting one arm between them and across Dean’s chest, Sam keeps Dean pressed against the door.

 

“Like that, huh?” Dean grins, breathing heavily. “Go on then.”

 

“Don’t need your permission, Dean.” Sam uses his annoyed and exasperated voice, but then he grins back, making Dean laugh.

 

“Touch me, Sam... want you to.”

 

Sam considers ignoring Dean’s plea and just making him come in his pants too, but the thought of getting his hands on what’s inside Dean’s pants is too tempting.

 

The smile on Dean’s lips falters when Sam tugs open his belt, slipping his hand inside his underwear.

 

“Fucking Christ,” Dean curses, his feet scrabbling on the floor as he tries to keep still.

 

Dean’s cock is hot on Sam’s palm, so hard, and Sam almost drops to his knees before catching sight of the damn doorknob and remembering that they do actually need to get out of here.

 

Still, from the way Dean is moaning and cursing, Sam knows that won’t be long.

 

 

The thought of getting Dean off so quickly, because of him, makes Sam’s spent cock twitch again.

 

He can’t see anything, but feeling Dean is enough, jerking him off while they’re close enough together that it’s impossible to know where one ends and one begins.

 

“Like that...,” Dean moans, pushing into Sam’s grip. There’s not much room for manoeuvre, but Dean is nothing if not resourceful. He spreads his legs wider apart, giving Sam a bit more space to... “Oh, fuck... yes.”

 

Sam smiles and presses his finger under Dean’s balls again.

 

“Hmm.” Sam bites his lip, putting that piece of information in his mind for later. There are other things Sam would like to do to Dean’s balls.

 

It only takes a few rough swipes of Sam’s hand over Dean’s cock and he’s coming. Dean makes a surprised sound, like he wasn’t expecting it, and Sam laughs against his lips, kissing Dean slowly until he’s stopped shaking.

 

“Good?” Sam says, leaning back to take in the wrecked state of his brother. He takes his hand out of Dean’s pants, wiping the come off his wrist on Dean’s T-shirt.

 

“Yeah... it was.” Dean sags against the door, wishing they were in a bed and that they could do other stuff. “We gotta get out of here.”

 

Sam licks his lips, entirely aware of Dean’s filthy thoughts.

 

“I still don’t know how to break the spell,” Sam replies, frustrated. He’s tried to think of all the spells he’s come across or read about, but he just can’t figure out what she’s done that’s trapped them here. “Oh, wait...”

 

“What?” Dean pauses, his belt almost fastened back up when there’s a crackling sound, the hair on their arms standing on end.

 

The door of the closet shakes, it sounds like it’s going to splinter into a thousand pieces, and the green glow spreads out from the doorknob like a wave. The hinges split, and Dean’s eyes go comically wide before they’re both falling, landing on top of the broken door with a thump.

 

“Oww, fuck it,” Dean grunts, crushed under Sam’s body and looking pissed. “What did you do?”

 

“I didn’t do anything! Uh, I think...we both did. There’s this spell, it’s old, I never thought about it until now, but... it’s Actum Prohibitus.”

 

“In English not Latin, geek,” Dean huffs. He knows Latin almost as well as Sam does but he can’t resist an opportunity to make fun of his brother.

 

“An act of the forbidden that holds great sacrifice can break the spell.” Sam rolls off Dean and lies on the broken door beside him. “Witches would cast on people and the only way to break it was to do something unspeakable, like kill a child in cold blood, rape... stuff like that.”

 

“Like incest?” Dean says, looking up at the ceiling.

 

Sam turns his head.

 

“Yeah, like incest.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

Dean is quiet for a while, and Sam is happy just to watch him. He loves the softness just under Dean’s chin, the freckles that have mesmerised him since they were kids, those long dark eyelashes. Damn, if Dean knew Sam were writing lovesick poetry in his head he’d never stop ribbing him for it.

 

“I can live with the sacrifice,” Dean finally says, turning to look at Sam again. “We’ve done worse, right? And it’s not like we care. It’s always been you and me.”

 

“You and me,” Sam repeats. He moves to get on top of Dean again.

 

“Hell of a way of coming out of the closet, eh Sammy?”

 

Sam groans at the terrible joke, but kisses Dean anyway, cause he can.

 

“I guess we sort of owe her one. She’s probably miles away by now anyway,” Dean says, his hand moving down Sam’s spine to the curve of his ass. “Wanna give her a head start? Get on the road tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah, I think that’s a great idea,” Sam says, going willingly when dean pulls him down for another kiss.


End file.
